


Just a Scratch

by miauneko



Category: King of Fighters
Genre: BL, IorixKyo, KyoxIori (implied), M/M, NSFW, Smut, Unrealistic Smut, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 02:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miauneko/pseuds/miauneko
Summary: [Translation] Shortfic with Kyo and Iori meeting at the infirmary after their fight in the KOF A New Beginning manga. And a second meeting before Iori’s ending in KOF XIV.





	1. His Wounds

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Sólo un rasguño](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786759) by [miauneko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miauneko/pseuds/miauneko). 



> If depictions of homosexual relationships are not your thing, please be careful before reading this story.  
> This is not a true translation, but rather an adaptation of my “Sólo un rasguño” fanfic. As such, the Spanish version prevails. English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

With a displeased grunt, Kyo rested his head on the hard pillows of the infirmary bed.

Life was unfair. Benimaru and Daimon had been released in the afternoon, making no effort to break him from his imprisonment. Benimaru had even suggested that he should be enjoying the dutiful care provided by the nurse in charge of his bandages. The girl seemed to be in a daze whenever she was around Kyo.

Kusanagi touched the bandages around his head and the dressing covering his right eye and cheek. He was convinced that his eye was undamaged, but the nurse didn’t want to hear about it and had covered half his face with gauze anyways.

Then the girl had taken her sweet time to bandage his arms, being extremely careful when dressing the wounds on his chest.

The doctors had said that he wouldn’t be released because his injury was deep. Kyo needed to stay overnight under observation, get some rest and take strong antibiotics to fight a potential infection.

“No way I’m staying here,” Kyo said in the dim, empty room.

He pushed the sheets aside and got up, but then he heard footsteps in the hallway, and decided that it’d be better to feign being asleep. He would escape when no one was around.

There was a calm, steady, almost uninterested rhythm to those footsteps. Kyo lay completely still. It was probably a doctor making the night rounds.

The footsteps came to a stop at the infirmary’s door. Kyo waited, alert, for them to pass by.

However, the person entered the room. His movements were heavy, his presence a familiar one.

“Shit,” said Kyo, realizing that person was no doctor. He got up hastily, and he flinched in pain due to his wounds. When he looked up, Iori was there, standing right next to the bed, staring at him with the shadow of a smirk on his lips. “The hell are you doing here?” Kyo asked, hiding the pain as well as he could, his injuries throbbing, because his heart was beating fast at the sight of Yagami.

The redhead still wore his torn wine-colored coat. He had a bandage covering his right hand, and he smelled like fire and ashes. The smile on his lips was disdainful.

Iori didn’t answer. With his unharmed hand, he reached for Kyo, who quickly turned his head away. However, there wasn’t much room for movement in the bed and he couldn’t prevent Iori’s fingers from lightly stroking the bandage on his cheek and the dressing over his eye.

Kyo gasped when Iori grabbed the bandages and violently tore them off.

“What the…?!”snarled Kyo, utterly irritated, but then he fell silent, because Iori touched his cheek and examined the purple bruise over his skin. Without a word, Iori pushed Kyo’s brown hair away, revealing his right, bloodshot eye. “Jerk,” Kyo muttered.

Iori kept silent, he didn’t move his hand away.

Kyo frowned. They were so close. He could push Yagami away or…

After a moment of hesitation, Kyo reached toward Iori, slowly, carefully, until he felt the soft strands of Iori’s hair against his fingers. Astonished that Yagami was allowing such contact, Kyo pushed the red hair aside, and saw that Iori’s cheek was battered too. The last blow during their fight had left an angry bruise, and a bloodied ring surrounded the iris of his right eye.

“Sneaky bastard. You hid the injuries under your hair? Is that why they released you already?” Kyo asked angrily, realizing that he was the only one trapped in that damn infirmary.

“Injuries?” Iori repeated, his voice deep, a glimmer of disdain in his mocking eyes. “You’re the only one who got hurt, Kyo, ” he said, stroking Kyo’s cheek, and continuing down his neck to his shoulder.

Iori tugged brusquely at Kyo’s hospital gown, exposing his shoulder and part of his torso. Thick bandages came into view, stained with a faint trace of blood.

In complete silence, Iori pulled some more. The gown’s ties came loose, and he was able to see the extent of Kyo’s injuries. Kusanagi was bandaged from the waist up. The bloodied stains run diagonally, from his waist up to his right shoulder.

Iori tried to touch the bandages but Kyo grabbed him by the wrist and stopped him.

“Yagami…”

The redhead kept his eyes fixed on the bandages. His expression turned into an enraged one.

Kyo tried to speak, but his words were interrupted by a gasp because Iori freed himself and summoned his purple flames, making part of the bandages burn. The fire was intense and short, controlled, and Kyo felt no pain, only its warmth against his skin. The bandages, however, fell undone to his lap. Kyo shivered when the infirmary’s cold air touched his torn skin. The slash on his chest was deep, and his flesh was wet with blood.

“What is this?” Iori asked, suppressing his anger.

“Just a scratch. Literally.” Kyo chuckled to himself at the bad attempt of a joke.

Iori not only didn’t find it funny, but became increasingly angrier. He couldn’t stop staring at the wounds on Kyo’s chest. He touched them with his fingertips, as if he needed to confirm that they were real.

Kyo tried to show no reaction, but had to close his eyes when the pain became unbearable.

Iori cursed to himself.

“Don’t worry, Yagami. It’s just a scratch. It doesn’t even need stitches,” said Kyo, attempting to sound convincing. He refrained from mentioning that the doctors weren’t able to suture the wound because he kept repeating that it wasn’t serious (and probably threatened to burn the whole place down, but the blow to his head prevented him from remembering that part very clearly.)

“Why did you allow such a thing?” Iori demanded, glaring at him. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Kyo narrowed his eyes, feeling annoyed all of a sudden.

“Oh, let’s see. I had to deal with you and your Blood Riot, and also with an evil presence that’s likely connected to Orochi,” Kyo recited, “while also trying to prevent you from burning and killing the audience. That’d have make you look really bad, by the wa--”

“You just had to attack!”, Iori interrupted, harshly. “An attack would have stopped that nonsense! Instead, you wasted time trying to protect those--”

“But it worked,” said Kyo calmly, cutting Iori short. “I brought you back, didn’t I?”

Iori cursed between gritted teeth.

Kyo smiled smugly at him.

“I have my own way of doing things. I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Your way is not efficient,” rebuked Iori, and his reproving tone made Kyo suppress a laugh.

“You came back and no one was hurt. Of course I could have ended it all with one blow, but you weren’t yourself. Where’s the fun in tha--”

Kyo left the phrase unfinished because Iori’s fingers scratched his wounds with deliberate cruelty. The sharp wave of pain left him breathless for a while. Furious, Kyo considered making Iori feel his flames right then and there, but he forgot about it when he looked at Yagami.

Iori was staring at his own fingers, as if mesmerized by the sight of the blood.

Kyo couldn’t react or look away from the strange glint in Iori’s eyes. The redhead’s expression was a mix of anger and disdain, but there was something else too.

“What’re you doing?” hissed Kyo when Iori brought his fingers to his lips and licked the blood.

Iori didn’t answer. His eyes turned to Kyo’s chest and the glistening blood on the slashed flesh.

“Yagami…” Kyo muttered when Iori leaned toward him, toward his chest and the wounds. Iori’s lips were parted, his breath ragged. Kyo knew what Iori intended to do, and thus clenched his fists, getting ready to hit him with a punch that never came. As Yagami inched closer, Kyo just let it happen, finding himself incapable of taking his eyes off Iori.

The brush of Iori’s lips against his wound caused another surge of agonizing pain, but also a wave of undeniable pleasure.

“Yagami…” Kyo repeated, grinding his teeth, unable to understand his own reasons. Why was he drawn to this man? How could seeing Iori so obsessed with his wounds give him so much delight?

“You are mine. Your blood, your life, are _mine_ ,” Iori muttered, without looking at him, speaking so close to his chest that Kyo could feel his breath against his flesh. “You allowed these marks to be carved on something that belongs to me.”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” Kyo retorted in a whisper.

“Unacceptable,” Iori replied, in a low voice too.

Kyo couldn’t answer, because Iori touched his lips to the wound again, and began to lick the blood along the frayed skin.

Kyo stifled a groan. Why did he enjoy this? The way Iori talked to him, the fact that this kind of contact could exist between them, that painful, addictive caress.

Cautiously, Kyo stroke Iori’s red hair softly. Iori was still kissing, savoring his wound.

“You’re a very sick person, Yagami,” Kyo whispered.

Iori stopped, as if he was suddenly aware of what he was doing. When he moved away, his lips were parted and wet. Kyo regarded him for a long time. How long had it been since their last encounter? Too long, probably, because both of them had been itching for a fight. The world had ceased to exist during their match, overshadowed by the raging conflagration of their orange and purple flames, the blows they exchanged, the pain they inflicted on each other.

It felt good while it lasted, but their fight had been cut short. The evil presence that took over Iori’s mind had made them waste energy, and the precious seconds they devoted to their fights had tickled by.

With some hesitation, Kyo brushed Iori’s slightly swollen cheek in a gentle caress.

He enjoyed knowing that Iori would carry that ugly bruise for some days; and that it would serve as a reminder of him every time Iori looked at himself in the mirror, or every time he felt the pain. Kyo suddenly understood why Iori seemed so angry at his injuries. Even though Iori had slashed his flesh with his own hands, his consciousness had not been there. The pain and future scars would not make Kyo think of him, but of the unknown being that had possessed Iori and left a permanent mark.

“You’ll get another chance,” said Kyo, without interrupting the tender caress. “I’ll get rid of the presence that wants to control you, whoever he is, and then we’ll continue where we left off. There’ll be no more interruptions.”

“I’ll deal with the presence myself. I don’t need your help,” Iori growled coldly. However, he leaned against Kyo’s hand and the soft touch of his fingers.

Kyo shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll help you whether you like it or not,” he said with a brief arrogant smirk.

Iori didn’t care to reply, but he didn’t move away. He stood next to the bed, his head low, Kyo’s fingers still traveling along his jawline.

Kyo looked at Iori’s torn coat, the sleeve that had been blown away by their fire. His bandaged hand.

His thoughts went back to their match. The moment when their hands were together, fingers entwined as if by accident, holding tight. Iori’s skin had been surprisingly soft and warm against his.

They had wanted to enjoy their fight as much as they could. What had Iori thought when he woke up and discovered that an evil being had robbed him of such opportunity?

Iori’s countenance was one of frustration. Their moment had been interrupted. They were alone now, but they were in no condition to resume the fight. Iori knew that it’d be impossible for Kyo to give his all, not with those injuries on his body. It was for that reason that Iori had not challenged him. That was why Iori remained silent, instead of threatening to kill him.

Kyo sighed heavily. Sometimes, Iori’s obsession with killing him was exasperating. But there were other times that Iori’s presence in his life felt natural and just right.

That night, the one who was with him in that empty infirmary weren’t his teammates or his girlfriend. It was Iori, with his harsh words and strange behavior.

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Kyo mumbled, looking up at Iori.

He wasn’t planning on doing anything. He didn’t stop to think about it. But suddenly he was pulling Iori towards him, because his fingers were still near Iori’s neck, and Iori was standing there, looking bitter and unsatisfied.

So Kyo pulled, and Iori allowed it.

Iori allowed their faces being only inches away from each other.

Allowed Kyo’s lips brushing against his.

Kyo didn’t question what he was doing. He just wanted to give Iori something of his own. Something to be remembered by, while they waited for their next fight. He wanted Iori to not be able to stop thinking about him.

Initially, Kyo feared his boldness would cause a violent reaction in Yagami. He pictured the infirmary engulfed in purple flames. However, nothing happened. Iori’s lips gave way, and suddenly the redhead was kissing back, placing a hand on Kyo’s nape to hold him even closer.

Although Kyo was the one who started it, Iori followed through, prying his mouth open in a demanding, slightly painful kiss.

Kyo suppressed a groan. He tasted the salty tang of his own blood in Iori’s mouth. He returned the kiss just as demandingly, and smiled to himself when he heard a satisfied growl coming from Iori.

Iori pushed him away not long after that, wiping his lips with a gesture of apparent disgust. However, there was a glint in his crimson eyes. His sour expression had softened.

“Take that as advanced compensation for the wait until I recover,” said Kyo, a sarcastic smile on his lips, achieving a convincing disdainful tone, even though his heart was beating painfully fast after the brief exchange.

“If you do that again, I’ll kill you,” Iori declared.

“Just admit that you liked it,” Kyo smirked.

Iori let out a low laugh.

The infirmary seemed colder and larger after Iori left.

Kyo spent some minutes lying in the bed, his body tingling where Iori had kissed him, on his chest and his lips. It was crazy, but he had enjoyed every second of it. He was even a little disappointed that Iori had just up and left.

However, Kyo knew Yagami was that kind of person, as he knew that they would see each other soon enough. The KOF tournament was just starting, and a new evil force was threatening the participants and, maybe, the entire world. Kyo would stay to face it and defeat it. And Iori would be close by, as he had been for so many years.


	2. His Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I write unrealistic smut following guidelines taken from doujinshi ^^.

Kyo glared at the keycard he had been given at the hotel’s front desk. A long hallway with a row of identical doors stretched in front of him.

He started walking, his footfalls quiet against the carpeted floor. He was exhausted. He didn’t have time to rest appropriately after the tournament ended, and barely caught some sleep in the flight to Hungary.

Chizuru had met him at the airport. She explained what was going on: the crater in Aggtelek Karst, and Orochi’s energy. Yagami had arrived in the city some hours earlier, and, according to Chizuru, the redhead wasn’t doing too well. The power of Orochi’s presence was starting to have an effect on Yagami.

The priestess had everything covered. She had booked rooms in a hotel nearby, and arranged transportation to the crater. They would leave in the early hours of the morning. If they were lucky, they would manage to seal Orochi again, and no battle would be necessary.

Looking at the bright side, Chizuru commented that at least the god had appeared in an unpopulated area. The number of potential victims would be minimum.

After a brief conversation at the hotel’s lobby, they went to their respective rooms. Kyo just wanted a shower, maybe dinner, and then he would crash into bed until it was time to leave. He was only carrying a small sports bag with a few personal belongings, but even that felt heavy, tired as he was.

When he arrived to his room, he inserted the keycard into the slot with a sigh of relief.

The room was dim-lit, and smelled like cleaning products. The curtains were closed, but light from the street filtered through the fabric.

Force of habit made Kyo kick off his shoes near the door, and he also dropped the bag unceremoniously on the floor. Without wasting time, he started to pull his white jacket off, already fantasizing with the hot shower, and eager to get into bed.

A soft moan coming from the darkest area of the room startled him. He was suddenly on guard, angry at himself for the oversight. Being tired was no excuse for letting a potential enemy get so close to him.

However, it was not an enemy, or at least not one that would pose a significant threat.

Kyo recognized the silhouette that was sitting on the edge of the bed. The long strands of hair, red in the dim light.

“You’re in the wrong room, Yagami.”

The lack of a response made Kyo sigh impatiently. He didn’t have the strength to deal with Yagami that night.

Even though the room was spacious, Yagami’s presence created an oppressive atmosphere, and Kyo felt as if there was no way to put enough distance between them.

“I’m really not in the mood for this nonsense,” growled Kyo, throwing an angry glance at Iori.

However, Iori wasn’t looking at him. He was sitting on the bed, back hunched. He was holding his head clearly in pain. His breathing was shallow, and soft muffled groans could be heard.

Kyo frowned. Was it the Riot? Iori was going to lose control in a hotel full of guests?

Yagami had managed to suppress his cursed blood during the tournament, but now they were closer to the source. Orochi’s energy had to be calling him, pushing him.

“Hey…” Kyo muttered, tiredly. “Really. Don’t start or I’ll have no other choice than to knock you out and throw you into the hallway because _that’s_ _my bed_.”

Iori’s reply was a low laugh.

“I want to see you tr--” The phrase was interrupted by a sharp cry that was quickly disguised as a curse. Kyo realized that Yagami was struggling to resist, but he was slowly losing that battle.

He had to prevent the Riot from occurring.

What could he do?

Challenge Iori and fight him… Would that work? Would a fight provide relief or just make matters worse? And even so, would they be able to find somewhere to fight in that foreign city? The hotel was located in a very popular area. The surrounding streets were packed with vehicles and tourists.

But he had to do something.

Distract Iori. That usually worked. He could make Iori focus on something different than the voices in his blood.

At the start of the tournament, he had vowed to help Iori. But Iori had controlled Orochi’s threat on his own. For weeks, Kyo had seen Iori’s resolution, and his silent battle against Orochi.

If he was tired that night, what about Iori?

“This'll be over in a few hours,” said Kyo firmly, coming closer to the bed. “We already beat Orochi once. Don’t give in.”

Iori looked up. His face was an expressionless mask full of badly concealed pain. His crimson eyes were glazed.

“Save your words. Just remember that after I finish with Orochi I’ll come for your life,” Iori replied.

“You have everything planned out, haven’t you?” Kyo asked jokingly, a disdainful smile on his lips.

“Not everything. Only your death.”

Kyo didn’t look away. Iori was smirking back at him.

“Asshole,” scowled Kyo.

Iori kept staring at him. He really enjoyed saying that kind of things. He was such an exasperating jerk.

But at least Iori looked a bit better now, focusing on him and not the pain.

Kyo took one more step toward the bed.

He was cautious when he stroke Iori’s hair in a light caress. He was never sure of how Iori would react. Sometimes, Iori allowed his touch. Sometimes he responded with violence.

That night, Iori let the caress continue. When Kyo pulled him a bit closer, Iori rested his head against Kyo’s hip and closed his eyes with an exhausted sigh.

Kyo’s eyes softened. Still caressing, he laid his hand on Iori’s neck for a while, and then let his fingers travel down, pushing the wine-colored coat aside, and then the white shirt, until he reached one of Iori’s shoulders. He felt the muscles hard and tense.

Kyo silently asked himself if he should continue.

As if answering his question, Iori raised a hand and placed it on the small of Kyo’s back, pulling him even closer, and then hid his face against Kyo’s abdomen, inhaling deeply.

Kyo felt a pleasant shiver and smiled against his will when, without losing any more time, Iori pushed his black T-shirt upwards and breathed directly against his skin. 

* * *

There were times when Kyo wondered how they could end like that, completely exposed, unable to hide anything from each other, in a dimly lit hotel room.

Threats became empty words, challenges were taken as an invitation.

Their clothes would get in the way and they would discard them in a matter of seconds, pulling, sometimes tearing them in the process.

The air against his skin was always colder than he expected, but the cold was quickly disregarded when he felt the warmth of Iori’s skin, his hands all over him, his wet lips, the inebriating contact of his arousal. 

Years ago, Yagami had been rough, back when they were learning to know each other, when they weren’t aware that both of them had the same desire. Iori took what he wanted with a feverish hunger, unable to make the pleasure last, and the culmination was short and unsatisfactory. The words they exchanged were hostile. They would part ways feeling resentful and angry.

But Iori had changed over time. Now he was fully aware that there was no reason to hurry. Their encounters could last as long as they wanted. Iori was able to explore, possess and subjugate if that was what he wanted. Kyo would allow it. He would not push him away. He would not reject him.

Quite the contrary. Kyo expected every touch, demanded even more, and then rewarded Iori when his turn arrived.

That night, in a hotel in a foreign land, Kyo enjoyed a hundred wordless touches, lying naked on his back, with Iori leaning over him. The redhead stared at the scars on his chest, the long, clearly visible lines where his fingers had torn the flesh open. Iori’s eyes darkened upon seeing them, and Kyo jokingly muttered “if they irritate you so much, you should try to leave your own marks, consciously, this time.” Iori had regarded him with a strange scornful look. But he had liked the idea.

Kyo smiled and then moaned, because Iori kissed his chest, the scars, and then began to slowly work his way downward, making a cruel pause over his navel and then continuing until he reached his crotch, touching Kyo’s arousal with his lips.

With Iori between his legs, Kyo arched his back when the redhead took him between his lips and into his mouth. Kyo ached for that feeling, the warmth saliva, the maddening touch of Iori’s tongue against his erection.

Clenching his fists on the sheets, Kyo pushed, urging Iori to take him deeper, as deep as he could, and the redhead complied, licking along his throbbing length, his hand going under Kyo, seeking for his entrance, wanting to prepare him for what was to come.

That was another aspect they had learned over time. To ensure that the other was ready. It had been unexpected. Kyo had thought Yagami would take him as he pleased, but he had been wrong. Iori was even more aroused when his fingers started to rub his hole, taunting and pushing against the natural resistance of his body. Iori growled to himself when the contradictory mix of pain and pleasure made Kyo moan.

Sometimes, Kyo was aroused just by seeing Iori so intent on making him enjoy the sex. The pleasure was amplified by that awareness. The shared anticipation was unbearable.

That was how Kyo wanted it that night. His body trembled, avid to feel Iori inside him.

“Careful or I…” Kyo warned, shivering when he felt Iori’s fingers pushing and entering him. His cock was still in Iori’s mouth, the caress of the redhead’s tongue and lips was driving him crazy.

Iori moved away very slowly, sliding his fingers, in and out, going deeper each time.

“You’re eager tonight, Kyo.”

Kyo shook his head weakly, and then gasped because Iori went even deeper, without taking his eyes off him. The redhead looked pleased with himself and relaxed. There wasn’t a trace of the pained expression Kyo had seen when he entered the room.

“Shut up,” Kyo growled, making a gesture for Iori to come closer.

Iori never stopped stroking. He leaned over Kyo, their erections rubbing against each other. His eyes were on Kyo’s the whole time.

Kyo didn’t know what he liked more about being like this with Yagami. Maybe the foreplay, or maybe having Yagami in him, coming inside him. What he did know, was that he always wanted to see Iori’s expression. It wasn’t enough to hear Iori panting raggedly, or the occasional deep sound that escaped from his throat. Kyo wanted to see every change in his expression, the moment when Iori’s eyes filled with desire.

Kyo let out a muffled moan because Iori was teasing a specific spot, making him squirm. Iori’s eyes were mocking him again.

Gathering his thoughts, Kyo didn’t look away. With his hand, he stroked Iori’s crotch and enjoyed a moment of triumph when he wrapped his fingers around Iori’s erection and the redhead made a sound that was a mix between panting and moaning. Kyo pumped quicker, Iori’s cock pulsating warm and thick against his fingers, and Iori closed his eyes when the strokes brought about an excruciating pleasure.

“Do it,” said Kyo.

Kyo was shocked when Iori complied without arguing. He held his breath when Iori’s erection rubbed and pushed against his hole, and clenched his teeth when the pleasure became painful all of a sudden.

Iori stopped, looking at him with scorn.

“Idiot,” Iori muttered, but Kyo wasn’t able to reply because Iori leaned over him to kiss him roughly.

“Doesn’t matter, do it,” Kyo insisted under the kiss, moaning when he felt Iori’s hand sliding down to his crotch and surrounding his length, making him shut up by stroking with a merciless pace.

Kyo pumped his hips and hated Iori for bringing him so close to the limit. The redhead didn’t look like he was going to stop.

“Listen to me, dammit,” Kyo cursed, arching his back, trying to contain the pleasure, knowing that Iori was playing with him.

Iori let out a low laugh, his lips against Kyo’s neck, and kept on ignoring him, caressing as if he intended to make him come with his hand.

Kyo cursed again. He hold on to Iori, trying to control himself, and he hugged Iori tightly, trapping him in a desperate embrace.

“Kyo…” Iori muttered, stunned.

Kyo didn’t reply. Had he hugged Iori before? He couldn’t tell. When they had sex, they would take and enjoy to their satisfaction, but there would be no gestures of affection.

“Kyo…” Iori said again, shaking his head, moving away from the embrace.

Kyo let him go. He assumed Iori was angry. Even the caress had stopped.

They looked at each other. Iori’s skin was glistening with sweat, his hair was damp, and his eyes were questioning him in silence. He looked slightly shocked.

It was a strange reaction to a harmless hug, but Kyo kept that comment to himself. Had he accidentally ruined the night?

If that was the case, he wouldn’t allow that to happen. He made sure that Iori was looking at him, and he lowered a hand to stroke himself.  Without averting his eyes, he silently told Iori that he could finish the work by himself if Iori didn’t want to go on.

However, Iori looked at him, looked at his erection, and smiled briefly before leaning down to lick the head of Kyo’s cock.

Kyo grunted, because Iori’s tongue was damp and hot and made him want to be inside Iori’s mouth again.

As if reading his thoughts, Iori pushed his hand away and took him between his lips. Iori’s fingers sought for his asshole again, sliding into the narrow opening, as if the interruption had not taken place.

However, this time, Iori seemed more eager, his breath uneven while he licked along Kyo’s length.

Kusanagi stared at Iori and his pleased expression. Iori was licking, savoring him, and Kyo felt the urge to give something in return, to take care of him too.

“Yagami…” Kyo panted, grabbing Iori by the hair to make his point come through. “That’s enough.”

Kyo made Iori come toward him, down on him, between his open legs. Iori complied and, their eyes still fixed on each other’s, he started to rub his erection against Kyo’s hole.

Iori penetrated him slowly, but even so, Kyo trembled under the familiar mix of pleasure and pain. Kyo smiled inwardly. The pain only served to arouse him even more.

Iori’s grunts and Kyo’s own panting became one when Iori thrust once to go deeper. Kyo felt Iori trembling and holding him tight by the hips. Iori cursed when Kyo thrust against him too, seeking to feel him even more.

Iori pushed and pulled out and was inside him again, their pace becoming quicker, shorter and desperate. Kyo felt his muscles go rigid, the pleasure building inside him, Iori’s erection going deep into him, making him tremble and unable to contain the climax anymore, forcing him to spill his seed between them, while Iori smirked and kept thrusting and panted because Kyo’s climax made the passage even narrower, and Iori could feel it all around his length.

Kyo lost sight of the world for a while, because the intensity of Iori’s thrusts were prolonging the spasms of his orgasm. He could feel Iori coming closer to the climax too, and, unlike him, Iori was eager for the release, seeking it impatiently, his glazed eyes fixed on Kyo, his breath jagged.

Kyo moved then, following Iori’s rhythm in a steady cadence with his hips, pushing each time Iori thrust against him.

Iori let out a silent groan when the first wave of pleasure ran through him. His semen spilled inside Kyo, abundant and hot, and Kusanagi shivered at the feeling. He was unable to get used to it, and the fact that Iori could fill him like this, lost in the pleasure Kyo made him feel.

Kyo wanted to make Iori’s pleasure last even longer, but the spasms became sparse and finally died down.

When Iori moved away, Kyo felt that the room was even colder. He missed the warmth of Iori’s body.

However, to his surprise, Iori lay down next to him, instead of getting up to clean himself and leave, as he usually did.

They exchanged a look. Kyo didn’t fail to see Iori’s satisfied expression.

“How come you’re not leaving?” Kyo asked, smug.

“This is my room.”

“No, it isn’t,” replied Kyo, but then the doubt set in. Maybe he had been so tired that he opened the wrong door? But then… why did the keycard work?

Iori had closed his eyes, as if he didn’t give a damn about Kyo’s confusion. Kyo concluded that, even if it was indeed the wrong room, he could stay for a while, because Iori wasn’t telling him to leave.

Kyo sighed, and started to relax.

“I will deal with Orochi by myself. I don’t need you”, said Iori after a couple of seconds.

Kyo turned to face Iori, who was looking at him gravely and sternly.

“I told you I would help whether you wanted it or not,” Kyo answered.

A few more seconds passed by. Iori’s gaze went to the scars on Kyo’s chest.

“You’ve done enough.”

“Forget it.”

Iori grunted, irritated by his stubbornness, and started to add something, but Kyo interrupted him with a kiss.

Taking advantage of Iori’s shock, Kyo invaded his mouth, and moaned with pleasure when Iori, instead of pushing him away, returned the kiss with his usual aggressiveness.

When they broke the kiss, Kyo stared at Iori with such intent feigned expectation that Iori frowned, unable to guess what that was about.

“What?” Iori asked, harshly.

“Back at the infirmary, you said you’d kill me if I kissed you again. I’m waiting to see you try.”

“Tomorrow,” Iori deadpanned, and Kyo looked at him speechless because… that had been a… _joke_?

He had no time to ask, however, because Iori got up and went into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. The sound of running water started not long after that.

 

~ Fin ~

 

MiauNeko  
August 24th, 2018

 


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